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Room and Board	By : sillyneko345 Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 25355 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own the game this story is based on (Jak & Daxter) nor do I make any money from writing it.

Chapter List
- 1-Ch. 1
- 2-Ch. 2
- 3-Ch. 3
- 4-Ch. 4
- 5-Ch. 5
- 6-Ch. 6
- 7-Ch. 7
- 8-Ch. 8
- 9-Ch. 9
- 10-Ch. 10
- 11-Ch. 11
- 12-Ch. 12
- 13-Ch. 13
- 14-Ch. 14
- 15-Ch. 15
- 16-Ch. 16
- 17-Ch. 17
- 18-Ch. 18
- 19-Ch. 19
- 20-Ch. 20
- 21-Ch. 21
- 22-Ch. 22
- 23-Ch. 23
- 24-Ch. 24
- 25-Ch. 25
- 26-Ch. 26
- 27-Ch. 27
- 28-Ch. 28
- 29-Ch. 29
- 30-Ch. 30
- 31-Ch. 31
- 32-Ch. 32
- 33-Ch. 33
- 34-Ch. 34
- 35-Ch. 35
- 36-ch. 36
- 37-ch. 37
- 16
- 17
- 18
Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It was Friday night, and Daxter was going against his academic religion. He stared down at his math book unseeingly, the numbers blurring as he tried to focus. It was awfully hard to concentrate on something that was only being done because it was a convenient time waster.
He hadn’t seen Jak all day.
It was past midnight and the quarterback was still out, plowing through a group project that was due before the onset of the looming break. Jak’s group had voted to press on that night until their presentation was complete rather than let it carry over into the next week to interfere with their other homework. And so Daxter had been left alone, struggling to find something to keep himself busy.
It had not been a fruitful venture. Three and a half math problems done in thirty minutes was hardly worth the effort. At that rate he might as well go back to what he had been doing before—staring at the ceiling over his bunk and thinking about the person who was supposed to be there and wasn’t.
In the days since their impromptu massage night had escalated into something a lot more, it seemed like Daxter’s brain had been going straight to Jak the moment it had nothing else to occupy itself with.
Like it was doing right that very moment.
Finally admitting defeat, he groaned and slammed his book shut. The noise startled Killer, who let go of the new cat toy he was destroying to shriek his annoyance at the interruption.
“I know, right? If I’ve been thinkin’ about it fer three days solid an’ still haven’t come up with an answer, I’m not gonna come up with one now. So I should just chill out, already!” Cramming his book onto the cluttered shelf at the back of his desk felt good. Dax sighed, slouching in his desk chair.
Killer slunk by, dragging his soundly defeated toy, just out of reach of the redhead’s trailing fingertips. Bits of stuffing fanned out in his wake.
Daxter glanced down at him moodily. “Hey. Weasel. He’s your owner. Is he hittin’ on me or what?”
Over the past few days, every small interaction with Jak had seemed… different, somehow. The quarterback’s smile had seemed warmer. The casual fist bumps, elbow knocks, hands on shoulders and ruffles of hair had seemed to come more frequently and last longer. Jak’s eyes seemed to linger on him more than usual. And through it all, Daxter had been driving himself crazy with one question: was Jak really showing some kind of interest in him beyond simple friendship, or was it all in his head?
The simple fact was, no one had ever hit on Daxter before. He didn’t have the first clue what signs to look for. Oh, sure, if Jak had shot him a Jinx-like smirk and a lame pick up line he would have gotten the hint, but that hadn’t happened. Nothing like that had happened. And his biggest fear, the fear that kept him silent as a stone when cutting to the chase and just asking Jak about it would be so much easier, was that he might be projecting his own attraction onto the quarterback—imagining reciprocation that simply wasn’t there, especially after what had happened between them on Tuesday.
Who am I kiddin’. Of course I’m projecting. Jak wouldn’t be hittin’ on me. He’s straight. Dax glanced across the room at Jak’s bulletin board. Jak and Keira at prom smiled back from their snapshot; a picture perfect couple. Yeah, he’s totally straight. ‘Sides. Even if he wasn’t, he’d never dig a goofy-lookin’ guy like me. Somebody hot like Phoenix, maybe…
Well, wasn’t that line of thought depressing. He forced himself out of the chair.
On Fridays and Saturdays the cafeterias were open later than usual. Zipping down for a little snack seemed like a good idea. And when he was done with that there was always his evening shower to take, even if he had been half hoping that Jak would be back by then so they could go to the showers together like usual—
“Oh, fer cryin’ out loud, I’m thinkin’ about him again! Gaah!” Grabbing his lanyard and wallet, Dax hit the door with a backward glance at Killer. “Hold the fort down, weasel face. I’ll be right back.”
Down in the cafeteria, he wandered from station to station, letting his nose and his stomach decide what was on the menu. Tonight it seemed to be a cup of vegetable soup and a packet of cheese cubes, perfect for warding off the mid-November chill. He was heading back upstairs, the Styrofoam cup of soup warm in his hands, when something in the sea of nearly empty dining tables caught his eye.
He would know that head of auburn dreads anywhere. And the ponytailed blonde sitting across from Torn was…
“So, how’s that thesis coming?” Jinx was asking as Daxter snuck curiously closer. “Can’t imagine writing five hundred pages of political science jibber jabber’s much fun.”
Torn stabbed moodily at a piece of meatloaf. “More fun than your thesis, I’m sure. With all those letters and numbers smashed in there if probably looks like a toddler went ape shit on your keyboard.”
“Hey, those letters and numbers make up beautiful compounds with limitless potential. This thesis will knock the socks off’a the chemistry department review panel, an’ that’s not even mentioning how wowed they’re gonna be by the practical demonstration—”
“Which I will take care to be far, far away from campus on the day of.”
Jinx snorted and launched an onion ring, which landed perfectly around the handle of Torn’s fork. “No faith in me at all, huh? You need ta loosen up, my man. When’s the last time you got laid? Wait, wait, don’t tell me,” he interrupted when it looked like the other might snap something, “I know the answer to that; Sophomore year, right?”
Torn glared daggers. Jinx laughed them off with the ease of long familiarity.
Daxter stepped up to the table with a grin. This was too good to walk away from. “Hey, guys. I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
Jinx’s ears slanted in surprise, then perked in recognition as he looked up at the newcomer. “Well hey, Red! Long time no see! What’s shakin’?”
“I just came down fer a bite ta eat.” Dax slid into the chair Jinx pulled out for him, more than willing to join the hangout now that he had an official invite from at least one of them. He popped the lid off his soup and turned to Torn. “Sooo, how’s my favorite RA doin’ tonight?”
“I’ve been better,” Torn growled through the hands covering his face.
“What?!” Jinx stared at him accusingly. “You mean Jakkie-boy an’ Red live on your floor an’ you never told me? What gives? The semester’s almost over! Think of all the party time we missed! We’re gonna have to make up for that after winter break, y’know.”
Torn was gently banging his head on the table. “I will call security on you all. So help me God I will.”
Daxter hummed contentedly around his spoon. “We love you too, Torn. So. How long have you two been pals?”
“Too long,” the RA muttered, finally lifting his head.
“Since high school,” Jinx corrected sourly, reaching across the table to push Torn’s head back down in retaliation. It barely missed what was left of the meatloaf. “We go way back. Y’know, we actually met in a chemistry class. I should’a known it was meant to be.”
“Yeah?” Daxter sank a cube of cheddar jack in his soup, trying to picture what Torn and Jinx must have looked like in high school. That had to have been a riot.
“Oh, yeah. We were lab partners. He was a grouchy asshole back then, too.” Jinx grinned smarmily at Torn, who flipped him off almost boredly. “But then he saved my bacon from gettin’ expelled, so I knew he was a good guy at heart. We been friends ever since!”
“Something I will regret to my dying day,” Torn grumbled. Both Daxter and Jinx ignored him.
“Whoa, wait, I gotta hear this story. What happened?” Daxter asked.
“Eh, you know. Even back then my experiments didn’t always work out the way they were supposed to. Which is half the fun of experiments, right? Anyway, I did a little too much damage to the chem lab for the school’s liking. They told me if I messed up one more time I was gone.”
“And of course, that was when some of our idiot classmates decided it would be funny to switch his beakers around,” Torn sighed, apparently resigned to telling the story. “It blew up three lab stations. The fire alarms went off and the sprinklers activated. We were both digging glass out of our arms and it took months for his stupid ponytail to grow back.”
“Your dreads are stupid,” Jinx countered without malice. “They would’a thrown me out, too, except for my lab partner vouched for me. He had such a reputation as a tight-ass, everybody knew he’d never lie for a hooligan like me. So he must have been telling the truth.”
“Wow. Color me impressed, Tattooed Wonder.” Daxter looked him over appraisingly. “Though, if you were that straight laced in high school, you must’a went totally nuts your Freshman year here. All that ink on somebody with a tight-ass reputation? Scandalous!”
“It’s called getting disillusioned with the system, you little shit. It happens.”

“And we’re so very glad it did. Even if your dreads are stupid.” Jinx had the audacity to reach out and tug one, which led to revenge at fork point. “Oww! Okay, okay, jeez.”
Daxter felt it wise to change the subject. “So, uh, Jinx. How’s prep for the party goin’? Jak said ya had big plans.”
“Oh, definitely.” His smirk bordered on frightening. “The drink special I’m workin’ on has five distinct aftertastes! Turkey, stuffing, cranberry, yam, and vodka.”
“You are screwed up in some fundamental way that I still can’t place,” Torn mused, casually stealing the last onion ring.
“Can it, Ropes. It’s gonna be epic.” The blonde looked back to Daxter. “Oh, hey, on the subject of the party—it’s been moved to Tuesday night. A lot more people than we figured are gonna be buggin’ out for Thanksgiving break on Wednesday morning. So same time, same place, but Tuesday night. Tell Jak to tell his football buddies, huh? I can’t trust Mog will remember to spread the word.”
“Can do! I’ll be the best little carrier pigeon you ever saw.” Dax scraped the bottom of his cup happily. That was one day less he would have to wait. Plus, he already had Tuesday night off work. Score!
“Just keep in mind what happens to underage idiots that I catch stumbling in drunk in the middle of the night,” Torn said, stacking his and Jinx’s dirty dishes on a nearby tray. “Your buddy Phoenix is on thin ice as it is. Hard as it may be for him to believe, I know what the hell beer smells like.”
“You wound me with yer lack of trust.” Daxter popped the last cheese cube in his mouth and piled his trash on the tray with theirs. “Duly noted, though.”
“Don’t worry so much, Torn. Red’s cool.” Jinx punched Daxter on the shoulder and grinned. “Well, it’s about time for me to ship out. Catch you later, boys.”
The redhead watched, mystified, as the two older students performed some sort of complex handshake, the kind that stupid high school kids make up to cement their eternal friendship. Against all odds, Torn even seemed to be smiling a little when they broke apart. That is truly a miracle. I had no idea the guy was actually capable of friendship! Wonders never cease.
Only then did he realize that he had been left alone with their tray. “Hey! Hey, I’m not takin’ this up! Most of that ain’t mine!”
Torn waved over his shoulder as Jinx laughed loudly. “Sorry, Red. Freshman’s privilege!”
Daxter grumbled all the way to the trashcans.
- - - - -
After his snack and unexpected encounter of the upperclassmen kind, Dax decided to hit the showers. There was still no sign of Jak. He just hoped the quarterback would have something to show for all that effort when he returned.
As he had hoped, the showers where deserted when he got there. Even the radio was quiet, the background music turned down to a barely there hum. Good. Just the way he liked it. Not that he was still too nervous to shower with others around now that he had figured out ways to stay properly covered until he was behind better cover; he just vastly preferred to go with Jak. They had some of their best conversations from neighboring shower stalls.
With a sigh, the redhead padded in and chose the shower in the back corner. He dropped his basket of soap and shampoo inside the curtain and turned on the hot water. Huh. Gonna need ta pick up more shampoo soon, he thought idly as he waited for the water to warm. Oh well. At least he didn’t use as much shampoo as Jak went through with that long hair of his. The green-blonde also had to use legit conditioner, whereas Daxter could get away with the cheaper bottles of two-in-one.
… Jak did have nice hair, though. It was always clean, healthy and shining. Sometimes it almost seemed to glow under the light of his desk lamp. And the way it fell forward when it wasn’t tucked behind his ears, draping gently down, framing his face so perfectly—
The showerhead sputtered, blasting the blocks of the back wall with a spray of hot water, and Daxter started. He had been smiling at his shampoo bottle like an idiot.
Stop. Thinking. About. Jak, he ordered himself, stepping in just short of the steaming spray and wrenching the curtain shut behind him. His robe was shucked and swung out from behind the curtain, expertly landing on the wall hook. Okay, Daxxie. Just relax. He stepped under the spray, shivering at the rush of warmth. Just focus on somethin’ else. There’s tons of stuff you can think about. No big deal, right?
Except that apparently it was.
When he tried to think about the homework he still had left to do, all he could think about was Jak, off working on his project like the good student he was.
When he tried to think about work, all he could think about were the times Jak had snuck in near the end of his shift to have a drink and a breadstick and walk home with him afterward, now that football was over and there was more free time.
Even when he tried to think about the upcoming party and how fun it would be, all he could think about was the last party they had attended. And what had happened after they had run from it. And how he wished he could remember more clearly what it had felt like to kiss Jak there in the freezing dew under a shrub.
That’ll probably be the only chance I ever get, he thought morosely, finally giving up on thinking about things that weren’t his roommate. Hell of a way ta kiss somebody fer the first time, an’ I was so drunk I can’t even remember all the details. So not even cool.
Daxter sighed, turning his face up into the spray as he lathered his hair. He knew for a fact that jocks, particularly football players, got kissed at parties all the time. Kissed and then some. Maybe, if he wasn’t such a giggly, stupid drunk, he could have impressed Jak with some smooth moves instead of smooching him under the damn bush like one second grader kisses another under the playground slide at recess.
… if Jak wasn’t totally straight, that is.
While he rinsed his hair, Dax allowed himself a little daydream. One in which he was something resembling cool and the alcohol gave him the courage to flirt with Haven U’s star quarterback instead of a one-way ticket to gooberville.
In a perfect world, he would be just as awesome at parties as Jak was. They would be the most popular duo in the place, the envy of all they surveyed. And after a night of fun, flirting, and Jello shots they would wind up together in a dark hallway, far removed from prying eyes and intruding cheerleaders out for a piece of football hunk. Dax would whisper something clever and alluring, then confidently reach up and pull Jak down for a kiss, a proper one, fingers tangling in that emerald-golden hair. Jak’s strong arms would wrap around him, eager but not rough. They would be hot against each other, kissing and touching, maybe staggering up a shadowed staircase to an out of the way bedroom while the party went on obliviously below…
Dax rubbed the soap off his face in frustration. Great. Good goin’. Go right ahead, get hard over fantasies of yer best friend. Why the hell not. He had nothing else to do that night. Might as well jerk off to Jak. It wasn’t going to make him any more ashamed of himself than he already was.
He pulled the curtain aside and looked cautiously out. The showers were still empty. He could do this if he really wanted to. And maybe if he did, he would finally be able to stop thinking about how Jak’s hand had looked that night wrapped around his truly impressive erection.
The redhead ducked back inside, the flush on his face and ears not entirely due to the heat of the water. He wasn’t even going to try to think about someone else while he did this. What would be the point? He could fool everybody but himself, and at that particular moment he would have been even happier to be naked in Jak’s bed than he would have been to find a naked cheerleader in his own. Not that the members of the cheer squad weren’t still entirely boner-inducing, but Jak was… Jak was hot, and so much more besides.
Oh well, Daxter thought as his hand drifted down to grip himself for the first tentative pump. I’m already a short, scrawny, freckled ginger with big teeth an’ no talent. Might as well be bisexual while I’m at it. The first touch was good, as it always was, and he leaned back against the warm, slick bricks with a sigh. Do ya hafta be hot fer more than one guy ta be bi, though? It was something to consider. Later. Right now there were more pressing matters at hand. Pressing into his hand.
For once he tried to go slower, thoughts flitting back to Jak’s low, quiet voice coaxing him to do that very thing. His free hand drifted up to trace across his chest, something that yes, he did enjoy now that he had a minute to focus on it. What he wouldn’t give for Jak to do that to him again, on purpose this time, rough fingertips rolling a sensitive nipple to immediate hardness.
“Jak,” he purred under his breath. Oooh. Even that felt good, just letting himself whisper the quarterback’s name. Daxter relaxed even further, basking in the trickles of warm water over his prickling skin, more content than he had been in days and oblivious to anything going on outside the shower curtain.
- // - // - // - // -
Jak’s mood when he finally got back to the dorm was decidedly sub-par.
He had been hopeful, when his sociology professor had announced the group project, that collaborative efforts in college would be somewhat better experiences than those he had been part of in high school. His hopes had been for naught. Six hours in the library on a Friday night had finally produced what he could probably manhandle into the form of a decent paper, but only after he had been forced to put the fear of quarterback into the hearts of his classmates.
When he wasn’t on the field, Jak considered himself a pretty laid back kind of guy. But after an hour of the meeting going nowhere—the art student staying buried in her sketch pad, the guy with the hat never looking up from his phone, and the really quiet kid who actually looked like he might know what he was doing refusing to speak up—Jak was done being laid back. The final straw came when the last member of their group walked in a full twenty minutes after the time she had promised to arrive, sat down, and began painting her nails without a word about how her research was going.
Remembering the stunned looks on all their faces when he had suddenly slammed his book closed, stood up, and began barking research orders at them almost made Jak smile as he let himself into his room. It was like they had never seen a football player give a damn in class before.
Finally, hours later, everyone had something marginally satisfactory to contribute. They had all emailed Jak their various findings and sources to add to his own. Sure each page had been written by a different person, but he was confident he could make it cobble together cohesively. It wouldn’t be a fun job, but at least if he did it himself he could be sure that their paper on the history of college attendance by various socio-economic groups, races, and genders over the past century wouldn’t make it to their professor covered in doodles, nail polish, or not at all.
Killer welcomed him cheerfully as he dropped his backpack and shed his coat, frisking around his feet with a flurry of squeaks and dooks. Jak grinned. “Hey there, buddy. What’s up? Where’s uncle Dax?”
If Killer was running loose and their lights were on, Daxter had to be nearby. They only let the ferret run if they knew they were going to be back soon. On a hunch, Jak opened his roommate’s wardrobe. The robe and toiletry basket were gone. Dax had to be in the showers.
Come to think of it, that sounded pretty amazing to Jak. How great would a hot shower feel, washing away all the stress of the day? If he went now, he might be able to catch Daxter before the redhead finished up. Jak quickly grabbed his towel, his keys, and his own basket and headed for the bathroom.
The moment he hit the door, Jak felt better. It was warm and quiet inside, the air getting progressively more humid and laden with the smells of soap the further through the bathroom he went. When he stepped into the shower room he saw Daxter’s robe hanging on its customary hook. Good. They could talk and laugh it up for a while, and Jak could cram his daily dose of Daxter Sass into the end of a stressful evening.
The quarterback had almost reached the stall beside the one Daxter was occupying, mouth open to announce his presence, when the greeting died in his throat. Over the thrum of water he heard a quiet groan. He stopped, ears pricking at the soft sound, and grinned. Sounded like someone was really enjoying their shower. Those kinds of groans echoed thick and fast through the locker room after games or hard practices as everyone exalted in the simple joy that was hot water. He knew exactly how Dax felt. He took another breath to let his friend know that he was there when the sound came again, just marginally louder this time, followed a moment later by—
“Jak—!” It was quiet, barely audible over the trickle and thrum of the shower, but clear.
Jak instinctively froze, his hand clenched tightly around his towel in surprise. His ears went straight up, straining at attention to catch any hint of another sound. And it came again several seconds later, right on the heels of a bitten off whine, the kind that had been seared into Jak’s memory just a few nights ago with Dax pressed against his side in the dark.
He stood, shell-shocked. There was no mistaking a tone like that. If Daxter had said his name any louder Jak would have assumed that somehow his friend had known he was standing out there and was acknowledging him, but… Slowly, a huge grin forced itself onto Jak’s reddened face. He couldn’t help it. As far as he was concerned, this was like hitting the jackpot in Vegas. Just with a moaning redhead leaning up against the winning slot machine.
He does like me. I’m not imagining it. He had been so unsure of himself, afraid he was mistaking Daxter’s normal behavior for tentative signs of mutual interest and just seeing what he wanted to see, but now he had concrete proof. Daxter wasn’t going to freak out on him if he came on stronger, or just outright proposed trying stuff out together. Limitless possibilities had suddenly unfolded themselves before him like a red carpet.
There was a sharp gasp from behind the curtain, a quiet squeak of “nnh, Jak!” and that was it. There was only so much Jak could take.
With a smirk, the quarterback dropped his towel and basket on the bench near the shower. “Yeah, it’s me. How’d you know?”
There was a yelp from inside the shower stall. The curtain exploded outward at chest level, as if an arm had thrashed into it in a panic, then settled back into place. A moment later Daxter’s head and one freckled shoulder came into view. He couldn’t have looked more terrified if Jak had ripped the curtain back and jumped at him with a knife.
“Hey, Dax. How’s it going?” As if he didn’t already know, but Jak immediately felt bad. He had meant to tease, not scare.
“Jak, I—uh—I mean—nothin’?” The redhead’s face was a strange combination of flushed and pale as he snatched his robe off its hook and disappeared behind the curtain again. The water cut off a second later. “How long have you been there?” There was a cringe behind the words.
“I just got back a few minutes ago,” Jak said, feigning ignorance. “I saw your stuff was gone and decided to come meet you. Guess you’re already done, though.”
Daxter slunk out from behind the curtain, basket of shower accessories clutched in a white-knuckled grip. Dripping and half swallowed by his robe, he looked very small. “Yeah, I’m pretty done! Think I’ll go head back now!”
Jak was torn between the urge to throw an arm around thin shoulders to calm him down and the urge to pull him in for a tonsil swabbing kiss. However, as that would have probably gotten him decked at that particular moment in time, he settled for a simple smile. “Sure you don’t want to stay and keep me company?”
Daxter stared. His mouth opened, then closed. “I guess I could hang out fer a minute.”
“Cool.” Jak reached for the hem of his shirt, not missing how bright blue eyes followed the movement. Maybe there was some hope of sorting this out now, after all. Was there any way he could coax Dax into making the first move? “So, have you been busy?” he asked, unable to keep from smirking playfully at his choice of words. He pulled his shirt off much more slowly than usual, delighted at the obvious attention that was being paid to it.
“Uh… k-kind of…?” Daxter’s eyes followed the shirt almost helplessly as it was pulled up and off, Jak’s torso coming into view. “How was yer project meeting?”
“Oh, you know. Long and annoying, but our paper’s mostly done now. We just have to work out how we want to present it.” Jak shook out his hair and combed his fingers through it. Very slowly. God, the shit Phoenix would give him if he ever found out that his quarterback would sink to trying to be alluring. Of course that didn’t stop him from executing a well placed stretch, outlining his bare chest.
“Well that’s, that’s pretty good, right?” Daxter’s voice was strangely high.
“Very good,” Jak purred, unbuttoning his jeans.
“Dax began to back slowly away, staring all the while. He kept backing up until he hit the wall, stumbled, and fell against the painted bricks. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s great! I got somethin’ I just remembered I gotta go do, so, uh, see ya when yer done!”
“Okay. See you in a few.” Jak turned away to hide his silent laughter as Daxter bolted for the safety of their room, no longer frightened but no less flustered. Oh, that had been priceless.
The green-blonde finished stripping leisurely and stepped into the shower his roommate had so hastily vacated. He had plans to make.
He would talk to Dax on the day of the party next week. They had to stop dancing around each other like this and, realistically, Jak was going to have to be the one to bring it up. At the party or right after the party would be the perfect time to do it. The kiss he had gotten on Halloween proved that Daxter got braver when he was drunk, so hopefully the redhead wouldn’t blanch white as mashed potatoes and run away when Jak broached the topic.
I’ll be really casual about it, Jak decided as he lathered up. I’ll just say something like “Hey Dax, I think it’s kind of obvious we’re pretty attracted to each other. We should mess around sometime. It’d be fun.” Short, sweet, to the point, no pressure. And then he’ll have Thanksgiving break to think it over. Then maybe we could—
The possibility, however remote, that Daxter might make up his mind in time for them to spend the five day weekend making out on Jak’s bed was enough to make the quarterback groan happily as he tilted his face up into the spray. Suddenly a party that had been approaching too fast for his liking seemed much too far away.
- // - // - // - // -
Daxter literally ran down the hall, almost crashing into their door. His hands, when he fumbled for his lanyard to unlock it, were shaking. He got inside, slammed the door behind him, and braced his back against it as he panted for air.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” he groaned at himself, hands tugging fruitlessly at the wet hair dripping into his face. “Jak must think I’m nuts!”
Really, though, he should be thanking his lucky stars. He had done something as astronomically stupid as making noise while he jerked off—even gone so far as to say Jak’s name. He never should have assumed that the sound of the shower would cover his voice. It was just damn fortunate that Jak had mistaken the meaning behind it when he had overheard his name. Otherwise he’d probably be thinking he was rooming with a pervert instead of just a weirdo.
Quickly Daxter hung up his wet robe and pulled on sweatpants and a hoodie in its place. He had to be acting natural by the time Jak got back. He could still act normal and divert this disaster. If he could just play it cool, maybe ask Jak in more detail about his project meeting, tell him about the party date being moved, everything would be fine.
That was why, when Jak returned, dripping and gorgeous with a towel around his waist, the redhead didn’t bat an eye. He was seated at his desk flipping casually through notes for an upcoming English test. Killer lay in his lap, poking his head up every now and again to try for a lick at the popsicle Dax held. It was a good one, swirled cherry and orange, that the cafeteria had put on sale a few days prior to clear out their stock until warmer weather returned.
“All squeaky clean?” Daxter asked, lifting his popsicle out of range of a seeking ferret tongue.
Jak nodded, opening his wardrobe to put his basket back inside. “Feeling about a hundred percent better.”
Dax quickly averted his eyes, mindful of the towel drop that was coming. “Group projects not yer thing, huh?”
“Projects in general aren’t my thing. Partners who don’t care just make it worse.” Jak rustled in his clothes. The wardrobe door shut. “I think I’m going to order something from Bamboo Express. Want anything?”
The redhead gave a covert glance over his shoulder, saw a fully clothed quarterback, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Nah, big guy, I’m good. I had a snack a little while ago. You’ll never guess who I saw downstairs while I was getting’ it.”
“Who?”
Dax grinned. “Torn, plus one. Did you know, Jak, that Tattooed Wonder an’ yer favorite grad instructor went to high school together? And they’re still bros? And they hang out in the cafeteria on Friday night insultin’ each other’s line of study an’ talking about their thesis?”
“Oh my God, are you serious?” Jak groaned. “Great. Now Jinx has a reason to come here and annoy me. There was a reason I never told him where I live.”
“What’s up with this thing you got against Jinx?” Daxter laughed, licking a drop off the base of his popsicle. “The guy seems alright ta me.”
“Then you go take a class with him if you like him so much,” Jak grumped. “Seriously, the next time he calls me Blondie-babe, I’m throwing whatever’s in the beaker I’m holding at his head.” There was a pause. “Hey. Where’d you get that?”
Daxter froze in confusion, lips around the popsicle. He pulled back and licked his lips self-consciously. “Cafeteria. Prob’ly the last ones fer the winter.”
“Nice.” Jak continued to stare—at the popsicle or at the lips that had been attached to it, it was impossible to tell.
Great. Judging by how great this night has been so far, I definitely got cherry on my face. Dax wiped his mouth with the back of one hand and held the popsicle out with the other. “Uh, ya want some?”
Jak looked back at him for half a beat, expression unreadable. Then he crossed the room and, rather than take the popsicle, he wrapped his hand around Daxter’s wrist to hold it steady as he leaned in for a long lick that turned into a lingering suck when it reached the tip of the melting treat. Their eyes caught and held for a long moment, during which Dax was fairly sure his face caught on fire. Killer looked up at them, head twisted almost upside down in true ferret fashion, and chattered curiously.
Then Jak pulled back, licked a drop of cherry off the corner of his mouth, and let go of Daxter’s wrist. In that order. “Pretty good. Thanks.”
“No problem,” Daxter muttered faintly.
That was it. No contest. He was going to die if Jak didn’t stop being sexy. He did not know how to handle this, this rush of needing the person that he lived with twenty-four seven! He was just going to fall down dead and they could bury him on the quad as a warning to all future students of what happens when they developed the terminal hots for their roommates. Here lies Daxter, dead of sexual frustration.
Yeah, he was going to expire… or snap like a faulty fan belt.
Jak moved away, fishing his phone from his backpack and a Chinese menu from his desk drawer. Before he could make the call, though, Daxter interrupted.
“Hey, Jak?”
“Yeah?”
“Jinx wanted me ta tell ya somethin’.” The redhead swallowed nervously. “The, uh. The party got moved up next week. Too many people are gonna be gone Wednesday, so it’s on Tuesday night now. Is Tuesday gonna be okay? Are we still gonna go?”
Jak’s ears flicked to and fro as he wavered. Slowly he nodded. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. I have a one-on-one meeting with my professor Tuesday evening, but I don’t think it’ll take long. I might be a little bit late, but you could just go on to Frat Row and meet up with Phoenix until I get there.”
“Okay. Sounds good, pal. Can’t wait!”
“Yeah, I’m sure you can’t. You and your good buddy Jinx will have a blast.” The quarterback rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he turned away to call in his order.
Killer shifted on Daxter’s lap and rolled over with a yawn that showed every tiny white tooth. Dax reached down to pet him absently. An idea was slowly beginning to take shape. This party might just be the key to his salvation.
The last time he had gotten drunk, Jak had forgiven him for the dumb kiss under the shrub. No questions asked. Maybe, if it happened again, he would get the same leniency. Maybe, just maybe, Jak wouldn’t be too quick to push him away, and he would have a small chance to show the green-blonde that he could be worth his time.
Jak’s about as close as a football player can come ta sainthood, but who in their right mind turns down a hand job? I mean, I know there’s no way I’d be able ta kiss worth a damn—if he’d even kiss me, which I doubt—but even I can figure out how ta work a dick. Prob’ly. He stared hard at the floor as he outlined the beginnings of a plan, his hopes daring to rise. So, so even if he’s straight, maybe we could do somethin’ like that once in a while? An’ then maybe he wouldn’t care too much if I had a crush on him? Or—gaaahh, I don’t even know!
One thing was clear. If he didn’t want to be a gibbering wreck by winter break, he had to do something. He just really hoped that something wouldn’t result in him having to find a new roommate when Jak kicked him and his childish crush out.
- // - // - // - // -
To be continued.
- 16
- 17
- 18
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